


stars in his smile; wolf in his teeth

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Come Eating, Comeplay, Finger Sucking, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Self-Indulgent, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-12 00:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15983732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: Stiles is a new wolf, so of course that means that he has new things he wants to do to Derek.[scent/comeplay ruled fic tbh]





	stars in his smile; wolf in his teeth

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote a like.... three paragraph note to myself for this fic in FEBRUARY. 
> 
> and it was 95% dialogue. 
> 
> anyway my name is one-scene mcgee so when i write porn theres no build up as to WHY they're fucking. they just do

                “Okay, okay,” Stiles mutters from his place straddling Derek’s legs. It sounds more like he’s psyching himself up than talking to Derek. “Okay. Okay.”

 

                His eyes keep roving all over the bare skin of Derek’s torso, as if disbelieving, still, at what’s in front of him. They skitter about, looking at everything, looking at all of him, and zero in briefly beneath Derek’s head. He assumes Stiles is staring at his neck and probably remembering earlier when he was tracing its length with his tongue, trying to cover it in his spit. Derek shivers and his hands, holding onto the sides of Stiles’ knees, clench.

 

                Stiles shivers at the reaction, ‘wolf eyes flashing before they slide shut. Yeah, Derek likes that response.

 

                Stiles is still getting used to his new senses, so he’s been twitching a lot, eyes flashing and fangs and claws popping out all over the place. Emotionally wise, however, he’s been very in check – smelling just as irritable or happy or _aroused_ but not reaction too out of proportion for them. Sometimes it looks less of Stiles forgetting himself and letting his features out, and more of him just liking the feeling of his wolf stretching within him. Either way, he’d been the one to take initiative and had held Derek in place with his hands on Derek’s hips as Derek laid out on the bed and Stiles crawled atop him.

 

                His hands slide up Derek’s abdomen a little, making Derek’s thumbs press into Stiles’ jeans, and Stiles licks his lips. “Yeah,” he breathes out and his eyes, pupils swallowing the things whole, flick between where his hands are and Derek’s face, as if both sights are equally appealing. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

                “Okay,” he says again, nodding to himself before he sticks a hand into his unzipped pants and pulls himself out. Derek inhales deeply through his nose at the sight, mouth watering, having to swallow when it only _worsens_ at smelling Stiles, already wet with precome.

 

                His mouth has fallen open, knowing that it’ll be too much to take if he has to _smell him like this_ and not be able to touch higher than his knees. As he’s staring at the way Stiles holds himself, at the way his hand slowly, mindlessly slides up to the head, he hears Stiles’ voice, awed and enough to snap his gaze up to his face, “ _Oh_ … Oh, wow.”

 

                Stiles is watching him, his _face_ , as he stares at Stiles’ _cock_ and salivates for it. He hasn’t said a word yet, but he hasn’t needed to. Even without the scent of lust and slight frustration pouring out of him, Stiles could probably tell. His chest jerks rapidly with breaths in and out through his mouth, and if he didn’t have better control of himself, he knows his claws would have already been digging into Stiles’ jeans.

 

                But _Stiles_ … Stiles is watching him with stars in his eyes, like he’s _surprised_ by how much he wants him. Like Derek is some kind of beauty, maybe, under him like this, focused and tuned into the way Stiles is about to pleasure himself in front of him. His own mouth is open, too, bottom lip red and shiny with his own spit. Derek wants to lean forward and suck it into his mouth.

 

                “Here,” Stiles says slowly, and though he sees Stiles’ hand moving in his peripheral vision, he doesn’t look away from Stiles’ face. Not even when he lifts his hand up to Derek’s own head, where his scent is more concentrated, slightly damp with sweat. He watches himself gently rub a thumb against Derek’s lip, and when Derek’s tongue comes out automatically to touch, he _tastes it_.

 

                _Fuck_.

 

                Stiles must have swiped his thumb over the slit, collecting a droplet of precome before he brought it up for Derek to taste.

 

                _Fuuuck_.

 

                Derek’s eyes fall closed, maybe in bliss, maybe in effort to keep himself in control, and Stiles traces his mouth with his other fingers for a moment, wordless, though his heart is thumping quickly, hard, and Derek finds his mirroring it.

 

                He hears movement, the skin on skin kind, and his eyes snap open to see Stiles has swapped hands so that he can stroke himself as he continues to touch at Derek’s mouth. His gaze seems to be glued to Derek’s lips, watching now as Derek absently slides his tongue along the tips of them, welcoming them deeper into his mouth. Stiles’ grip on himself is quick, without pause or any attempt to savor it. He’s very focused on making himself finish.

 

                At that realization, Derek makes a short, punched noise, and his hips jolt up as his hands anchor Stiles downwards, pulling them close. Stiles gasps at the movement, friction between his legs, and rocks his own hips back into Derek’s once, eyelids fluttering as his head falls back, exposing his neck; his hand speeds up further.

 

                He does it again, watching intently as Stiles sinks his teeth into his lip, without using his fangs, and then how his claws slip out, even as he pumps himself. Derek wants him to open his eyes, he wants to know if they’re changing colors, but he still has Stiles’ fingers in his mouth so he cannot. Instead, he sucks them harder, and

 

                Stiles comes.

 

                His back arches, and fuck, he’s gorgeous. He’s making a sound between a choking noise in the back of his throat that morphs into a whine, breathy and beautiful. His eyes scrunch tight as his lips part further, slack and wanting. Derek _wants_.

 

                His breathing turns shuddery as he starts to come back down, and when he does open his eyes again, they’re half-mast and content, complimenting the slight upturn of his lips. As he looks down at Derek, it widens, and somehow even through the fog of his pleasure, he has a hint of predator to him that makes Derek twitch.

 

                He leans forward a bit, moving like he’s about to lean down and _finally_ kiss Derek, but he doesn’t quite completely move all of the way and instead, he presses a hand against Derek’s navel. Derek realizes with a start that it’s slick there, where Stiles must have spilled onto him, and then –

 

                – and then he dips in, smearing his come over Derek’s skin and the hairs there, spreading the _scent_ of him.

 

                Derek jerks his hips again with a whimper, helpless to do anything but wait and _want_.

 

                One side of Stiles’ smile jerks up at that, edging a smugger look, but it soon droops again when he inhales, eyelids thinning again in pleasure at smelling how well the scents of them mix. Derek _knows_ , he does. It smells so fucking good. He wants to come all over Stiles’ skin and roll around in it, marking him as _theirs_.

 

                When Stiles finishes rubbing his come and scent into Derek, then he gently retrieves his fingers from Derek’s mouth and reaches back with both hands to encircle the wrists of Derek’s. He brings them up to his neck and, cupping the backs of them, starts to push them into him, moving them in slight circles.

_Oh_.

 

                Derek gets with the program quickly and digs his fingertips and palms into Stiles’ skin, pressing in enough to make it lose color as he slides up and down and around, spreading his own scent deep into Stiles’ own. His hands move up, along Stiles’ jaw, cupping his cheeks and softly swiping over his eyelids. Stiles lets out a hum and Derek realizes that he’s been rumbling, something pleased and soothed since he’s been touching Stiles.

 

                He clears his throat and Stiles opens his eyes, his eyelids moving much like they don’t want to even open, like they were sticking together. He takes a deep breath in and almost squirms with how _perfect_ and _aligned_ everything smells. He asks, his voice throaty and rough, which Stiles looks amused at, “Why didn’t you just have me come on your face?”

 

                It would have gotten the job done better, faster, and maybe he’s projecting, but he thinks Stiles would have likes to play in his come. Stiles’ hands come up, one sliding down on Derek’s forearm, both holding him against his face and just touching him. His other hand stays in the air with two fingers up. “Two reasons,” he starts, and then puts one down. “One, that’s be a little harder to clean up when I inevitably rubbed it in. Also much less likely to get semen in my eyes. But we’ll do that another time, I promise. Two,” he puts up the other finger again. “I wanted to taste you myself.”

 

                Derek finds himself with a dry throat as he looks up at him, breathless. His words come out croaking, “That’s fair.”

 

                At this, Stiles’ nose goes into the air twice in quick succession, nostrils flaring, a very animalistic action as he scents Derek’s opinion of his answer. Then, as his hands fall back down to curl under the band of Derek’s jeans, his lips curl. Stiles’ grin is sharp, full of promise, and _wolfish_.

**Author's Note:**

> so thanks for reading!! appreciate it.


End file.
